Not a word.
Not disobedience.
Just breath escaping because survival couldn’t hold it anymore.
“Stay.”
One word. Low. Final.
I froze. Shaking. Worshipping. Because I knew. Because he had decided. Because survival was no longer breathing. It was bleeding quietly through the cracks he carved into my soul.
His other hand moved lower. Slow. Unforgiving. Palming my ass. Spreading me wider. Exposing everything.
I could feel the slick between my thighs. Hot. Shameful. Beautiful. Salvation in my own debasement.
Wolfe shifted behind me. The zipper of his pants whispered down. The sound made my entire body lock tight. Fingers flexed against marble. Breath stuttered in my lungs. The leash tugged again—gentle.Commanding.
I whimpered. Soft. Shuddering.
He pressed the blunt head of his cock against my entrance. Hot and heavy. Brutal in its inevitability. He didn’t ask. He didn’t warn. He took, just like I needed him to. The firstpush was slow. Stretching me wide around the thick, merciless invasion.
Tears burned as my body reacted, opening for him. Welcoming him.Cravinghim. Slick wept down my thighs as he pushed deeper. Every inch claimed with the slow, careful violence only Wolfe could deliver, branding into me like a second leash under my skin.
He bottomed out with a low growl. A sound that vibrated through my spine. Through the leash. Through the breath barely catching in my throat.
I gasped. Sharp. Helpless. The collar dug into my throat where the chain tightened slightly in his hand. Not enough to cut off breath. Just enough to remind me it wasn’t mine anymore. It belonged to him. It always had. He didn’t move immediately. He stayed seated inside me.
Thick. Heavy. Overwhelming. Forcing my body to adjust to him. Forcing me to feel every ruthless, inevitable inch. I whimpered again. Smaller this time. Softer. My thighs shook with the effort to stay still. To be good. To be worthy.
Then—he pulled back.
Slow.
Dragging every nerve, every muscle, every broken piece of me with him. Until just the tip of him stretched my entrance. Until the emptiness yawned inside me. Until the need bloomed so sharp it became a prayer all its own.
And then he thrust forward again.
Hard.
Sharp.
Deep.
I cried out. Breathless. Choked. Obedient. Because even my cries belonged to him now. Even my pain was reverence.
He set a brutal rhythm. Neither fast or merciful. Just devastating. Each thrust driving the air from my lungs. Each pullburning worship into my spine. Each snap of his hips slamming my hips higher against his grip.
The leash never slackened. The collar never loosened. The chain tightened with every thrust. I was shaking. Crying and utterly destroyed.
His cock dragging against every tender nerve inside me. Forcing pleasure and shame to fuse into something filthy and sacred. He growled low above me. Not words. Just a sound of possession. A sound that said:
“Mine.”
Without needing to say it. Without needing to break the ritual of silence we had built from broken breath and bound ribs.
The world blurred. The marble disappeared. The city disappeared. There was only Wolfe’s cock splitting me open. Only Wolfe’s leash stitched into my spine. Only Wolfe’s command branding itself into the wet heat of my cunt until survival wasn’t enough. Until I needed to worship him with the wreckage of my body.
“Come.”
